


Seeds of Hope - The Legend of the First Power Rangers

by TheGJ90



Category: Power Rangers
Genre: Eltar, First Ranger Team Ever, Gen, Legend of the First Power Rangers, Origins, Seeds of Hope, United Alliance of Evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 22:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGJ90/pseuds/TheGJ90
Summary: When Eltar first fell to the United Alliance of Evil three-hundred thousand years ago, its people were deprived of their culture, their dignity, and their hope. But when six brave warriors came from out of nowhere to prevent needless bloodshed, their hope had been reborn, fueled by a newfound desire to free their world from evil. As they rebelled against their former masters, they could always turn to these warriors for help, even when times were at their darkest. The rebellion was a success, and Eltarians everywhere would come to honor and remember these heroes for all of the heroic deeds that they had accomplished. Such acts of goodwill would spark the birth of a legacy that would live eternal throughout the universe. This is the story of how Eltar was freed, a tale passed down from one generation to the next. This is Legend of the First Power Rangers.





	Seeds of Hope - The Legend of the First Power Rangers

**Author's Note:**

> My first story for this lovely site, and by the Power is it a doozy! I've been working on this one on-and-off for ages, so I hope you all can enjoy reading it. I certainly had a blast writing it!

Eltar, three-hundred thousand years before Rita Repulsa was trapped in a space dumpster. At the time, it was a planet under the dominion of the United Alliance of Evil (U.A.E.), a cruel faction of villains that was growing in size and power with each passing day. The Eltarian people were treated like slaves by their Alliance masters, who forced them to work themselves to the bone through terrible slave labor. Whether it be creating weapons and armor for their soldiers, building monuments in honor of their vaunted Grand Monarch, mining resources to fund their war efforts, or cleaning up after their own messes, the slave-driving leaders were insistent on forcing these people to work far beyond their healthy limits in order to satisfy their masters. It did not matter to them if their slaves died from over-exhaustion or the terrible working conditions, for in their eyes, there was always more to work with. When the Alliance took over the planet, the first to go were the lives of those brave souls who tried to defend their home from the invaders. The second to go was every trace of Eltarian culture that the vile soldiers could find and burn, as they believed that even a tiny spec of their cultural identity and heritage could inspire them to rebel. The people of Eltar were great practitioners of the magical arts and held a deep respect for all life in the universe. So of course, to their new conquering leaders, such aspects of Eltarian life had to be suppressed as strongly as possible, destroyed if possible, so that the people had no amount of hope to cling to. All texts related to magic were stolen and burned, magical items every shape and size were destroyed, and the teaching of magic was outlawed planet-wide. Life on the planet that was not considered important to the Alliance was ruined, disrespected, corrupted, and otherwise killed. Simply put, the planet and its citizens were held firmly within the grip of tyrannical beings.

  
One day, a celebration of the U.A.E.’s rule was held in the largest arena in all of Eltar, based in the capital city of Katar. The tyrant who lorded over the planet in the name of his Grand Monarch, a Piranhatron named Terror-fin, commanded that the celebration involve the Cu ‘deka; a glorified blood-sport where slaves fight to survive for the amusement of their masters. Sitting upon his throne while clad in regal armor that matched his dark grey scaly body, he watched as the first batch of frightened Eltarian slaves were forcibly corralled onto the battlefield by a squad of guards. Attendance was mandatory under penalty of death, so the people who were not called to fight had no other choice but to watch from the audience seats as some of their own were forced to fight, and die, before them. No self-respecting Eltarian would dare enjoy this terrible event. With the slaves gathered, Terror-fin sent the guards away, rose to his feet, and addressed the audience;  
“Good servants of our glorious Alliance, these members of your race have been chosen to do battle in honor of our Grand Monarch, and to celebrate the liberation of your pitiful world!”  
The audience wanted so badly to boo him and his poisonous words, but they were too frightened of death to try as he continued;  
“Before we begin the festivities, as is our custom, I must ask; Who among you have the courage to join them in combat?”  
No one in the audience dared speak up, for they all knew that those Eltarians who took part in Cu ‘deka, be they chosen slaves or audience members, never came back alive. Terror-fin smiled, visibly pleased by their silence as he proudly declared;  
“None? Well, if you insist, then let the Cu ‘deka-”  
Before he could finish his sentence, however, he was interrupted by six beams of light that came streaming down from the sky above at break-neck speed. Each light emitted a different color; red and green in the middle, blue and yellow on the right side, pink and black on the left side. They landed gracefully upon the ground side-by-side, directly in front of the group of slaves. Half-a-second after making landfall, the lights vanished, revealing a group of six people of varying heights who wore dark brown cloaks that covered their bodies, their hoods hiding their faces under layers of shadows. Everyone around these individuals were shocked by what they had just seen, Terror-fin especially, for few on Eltar had dared to answer his challenge, and of those few, none had survived. He then took a breath and smiled again, confident that these mysterious people were fresh meat and nothing;  
“At least these challengers know how to make an entrance.”, he thought himself as he sat back down and finished his announcement;  
“Let the Cu ‘deka begin!”

  
The gates in front of the six hooded individuals slowly rose upward, allowing two large, vicious monsters to walk out from the tunnel behind them. The tunnel gates closed back down with a great thud after they entered the battlefield, making it clear to all Eltarians that there was no escaping this fight. The one on the left was a two headed, bipedal pig-beast with horse hooves for feet, razor-sharp claws, and a mighty physique. The one on the right was a Minotaur with an oversized mace in his right hand and an even mightier physique than what the pig-beast had possessed. The chosen slaves shook and whimpered in fear of having to face such abominations in battle. The hooded folks, however, had a different response in mind. Each of them placed their right hands upon the centers of their chests in unison, firmly grasping upon their cloaks, directly on the spot where an Eltarian’s heart would be. At that moment, bright lights began to shine out from their hoods, replacing the shadows that once hid their faces with the same colors as before. The slaves behind them could not see this, but the monsters could, which gave them reason enough to stop their movements out of curiosity. They would pay dearly for that mistake. After another moment had past, the six then pulled their cloaks with their right hands off with graceful force, throwing them off to their right sides, hoods and all, revealing that their bodies were completely engulfed by the colored lights. From the moment that they were revealed, the lights had begun to glow so incredibly bright in fact, that the simple act of looking upon then had brought searing pain to the eyes of every evil being in the area, forcing them to protect their sight in any way they could! The glow itself grew to cover the entire battlefield and tower over half of the audience seats, leaving the villains with little chance to escape from its glorious presence. Terror-fin in particular was screaming in agony even after he had shielded his eyes with his left arm while turning away at the same time. The group of slaves as well as the audience, however, found the lights to be quite pleasing to their own eyes, although they were quite surprised to see something like this occur before them. Many of them were scared at first, but it did not take long for them to see that they would not be harmed by this occurrence. The slaves themselves were completely engulfed by the glow, which had the added effect of, from their shared perspective, calming their minds and souls for the short time that it was all around them. After five-seconds had past, the glow had shrunk and lights faded away, revealing a sight that Eltarians everywhere would go on to never let history forget. The six figures were now clad in colored armor that matched perfectly with the lights and covered their bodies from head to toe. Their helmets were equipped with black visors that could not be seen through from the outside and carefully sculpted silver mouths and noses. Etched upon the fronts of their chest-plates was the image of a large, yellow lightning bolt with an imposing thickness. Their gauntlets, leggings, and boots were clearly masterfully crafted for battle, as they were thick enough to protect their wearers, but light enough to allow for flexability. It was clear to everyone around them that these six people were not slaves, but battle-ready warriors that they had never seen before.

  
Needless to say, Terror-fin was stunned, but he had made it a point to reclaim his composure quickly to avoid showing weakness to his servants. The monsters, though shocked for a moment or two, decided to charge at the warriors together, intending to end them quickly and with as much violence as possible. The slaves behind the warriors became frightened once again, this time for the people in front of them. The green and red ones moved into their battle stances, waited until the beasts got in close enough, and threw two mighty punches, one for each beast, onto their bellies. Their attacks had hit with enough force to send the two creatures hurtling back through the gate bars and into the tunnel behind them while screaming in a combination of pain, shock, and terror. The entire arena was silent. The audience was utterly shocked, for no one other than an Alliance member had won a Cu ‘deka fight before. Terror-fin’s right eye twitched as he sat in stunned silence. The slaves were just as shocked as the audience. That shock slowly turned to relief on their part, as they became quite glad that they apparently had strong help to back them up that would not die in the first fight. For the audience, their shock gave way to joy over the simple fact that innocent Eltarians were spared from death this time. They would not clap or cheer, however, for this was just one victory. However great that victory may have been, they knew that their cruel leader had more dangerous beasts to work with, the kind who were aching to spill blood on that day. Terror-fin would prove them right, as he called out in anger;  
“Send in the next batch! I want them all dead and gone by day’s end!”  
The monsters came with fury and malice, each one more vicious and skilled than the last. The warriors were quick to work together against each opponent, using their combined efforts to do battle with the creatures with a level of skill and tenacity that kept the Eltarian audience’s gaze fixed upon them. Each of the monsters that entered the battlefield were all eventually sent flying back through the tunnel from whence they came, creating a pile a dead monster bodies that grew upon the end of the tunnel with each victory that they had obtained. The slaves tried to hide from the fighting at first, but as they saw the beasts being taken out one by one, they started to feel something deep within their beings that no Eltarian had felt in a long time. The audience began to experience this same feeling as well, one that they had all almost forgotten about.  
It was hope. Mad hope in the face of unspeakable evil, but there it was.  
For the first time, these people were seeing with their own eyes that the cruel beings that scared, insulted, and beat them into submission were not invincible, for they could be fought. They could be defeated. Such hope was small at first, a mere flicker of fire within their souls. But as the warriors’ victories mounted, it grew into a flame that empowered the slaves to fight alongside them, and the audience to cheer them all on. As their hope grew, so did their cheers as they celebrated each and every victory that the warriors and their allies had earned before them with increasing enthusiasm.

  
All Terror-fin was feeling, however, was an all-encompassing rage as he demanded that the six armored fighters approach the wall below his throne. He then asked them with rage spilling out from his voice;  
“Who in the cosmos are you?!”  
The slaves were silent and still, their fears weakened by their hope, but still present within them. The audience was also quiet, curious as to how they would respond, but also frightened of what the fish-tyrant would do to them. The warriors responded by silently pointing their right index fingers directly at Terror-fin in unison. The Piranhatron was taken by surprise yet again, for he took this as a challenge to a fight with him, and no one had dared to do something like this while he ruled Eltar! He looked upon the warriors with narrow fishy eyes as he spoke with a menacing voice;  
“You dare to challenge me, your Overlord?!”  
He then magically summoned twin swords with serrated blades into his hands and jumped from his throne onto the ground below. He stood confidently before the warriors as he proudly declared, much to the horror of every Eltarian present;  
“I will answer your challenge with your deaths!”  
He then lunged at them while bellowing a fierce battle cry, the warriors quickly moving into their battle stances to prepare for the battle ahead. The slaves stood behind them at this point, their fears being strengthened by the sight of their master fighting to kill them and everyone else on the battlefield. The audience was also frightened, but more so for the well-being of Terror-fin’s opponents, for they did not want those who had given them hope to die horribly at his hands. Even so, at the sight of their Overlord, they could not help but be silent this time. The battle was furious, far more so than the ones that came before. While the tyrant was outnumbered, he was skilled enough as a fighter to hold his own against all six of the warriors at once, who were finding it difficult to gain any substantial ground for quite a while in fact. But after what felt like an hour of even fighting to everyone watching, the warriors then silently decided to change things up a bit by using their combined efforts to push the tyrant far away from them, eventually shoving him on to the wall below his throne with enough force to embed him into the stone itself. They then moved their right hands behind their backs, something that Terror-fin did not see right way as he pried himself off of the wall and charged back at them. Before he could get in close enough to attack, however, the warriors had magically summoned what appeared to be, according to the eyes of the slaves behind them, laser blasters into their right hands, pulled them out to aim at their opponent as quick as a flash, and fired six laser beams directly at him. As he charged, the laser beams came at the tyrant before he could react. Each beam had hit their mark, making him scream in pain as they scorched the spots on his chest where they had hit, stopping him in his tracks. They then fired more shots repeatedly at the fish-creature, the constant application of pain keeping him from moving an inch further as bolts of energy began to course around his body like electrical currents. The warriors stopped firing once they saw the bolts and turned around to have their backs facing their opponent as he screamed in agony while falling face-first onto the ground, his scale-ridden arms outstretched as he exploded upon impact in a spectacular fashion.  
Every Eltarian in the arena was silent again, completely flabbergasted at what they had just witnessed. Their shock slowly turned to joy, for they had realized that what they had all thought to be impossible had happened: Terror-fin, Overlord of Eltar, a high-ranking member of the United Alliance of Evil, had been destroyed. The audience erupted into an explosion of cheers as every attending Eltrian made their way onto the battlefield to greet and congratulate the warriors and the brave slaves who survived long enough to be freed from their shackles. Speaking of the slaves, they were the first to surround their victorious allies to thank them for saving their lives. It would not take long for the field to be filled to the brim with grateful Eltarians, with the Warriors standing the center of the rapturous chaos. The noise lowered in volume as one the folks closest to them asked the question that their now former master had asked earlier;  
“Who in the cosmos are you?”  
This time, they gave the people a simple answer, as they spoke aloud together, with voices masked by what sounded to the witnesses like voice modulation technology, the words that would be remembered for all time;  
“We are the Power Rangers.”

  
This would not be the last time that these brave heroes would fight to the sake of others, for they went on to continue their defiance against the will of the Alliance everywhere they went on Eltar. As their victories grew, so did the hopes of every Eltarian who came to know of their exploits. Eventually, The Rangers would find themselves surrounded by allies, willing volunteers who wished to fight to bring freedom to their world. Some were slaves set free by the Rangers, others were citizens who got sick of being treated as less than a person. Even some of the soldiers who fought against and survived the initial invasion of the planet joined in, looking to set things right and teach the other rebels how to fight against armies. With hope in their hearts and freedom on their minds, they banded together against their former masters, stealing and crafting every useful weapon, armor, and item that they had needed. The battles were numerous, the enemies were ferocious, and the losses on both sides were great in number. But after three years of rebellion, with the Ranger-led Eltarians preparing to make a final push on Sulan, the last enslaved city on the planet, the Alliance decided to bring down the hammer upon them all.  
As the rebel army marched forth to Sulan’s gates with the Power Rangers leading the troops onward, two platoon’s worth of spiked drop-pods came hurtling down onto the ground before them with many a great crash, creating small craters from under them. Busting out through the pod doors with ferocious gusto were masked soldiers clad in smooth silver armor. Their masks came equipped with black visors and caged mouth guards that served as a visually menacing counterpoint to the Rangers’ own masks. Their armor consisted of silver metal vests, matching gloves, gauntlets, knee guards and tall boots, black undershirts and pants. Each of them held in both hands a two-handed blade that curved into a half-circle, thus serving both a defensive and offensive role in battle. The fighters spoke in a metallic tongue that was not known to Eltarian ears. Many of the rebels had heard stories about them, of how dangerous they were to their enemies. Faceless, nameless, soulless, they served only the Alliance’s tyrannical leader and their appointed heir. For these were the strongest frontline soldiers in the U.A.E.’s arsenal, the Alliance warrior elite: the Quadratrons.

  
Upon making landfall, the Quadratons ran upon the ground below their drop-pod doors to stand into what the rebels had called the Fear-Box Formation. The three platoons formed up into three massive squares with space between each square that was the width of one person of average weight. This show of force brought an emphasis on the size of their numbers that made many of the Eltarians behind the Rangers shake in their armor. But they all held fast in the face of this threat regardless, having been encouraged by the sight of the Rangers standing as frozen as statues, seemingly unfazed by the army before them, which matched the size of their own. After the Quadratons finished getting into position, both sides turned quiet for what felt to many an Eltarian like the longest five seconds of their lives, and then a mighty pillar of flame erupted out from the ground between the two forces, towering over them all like a raging inferno born from the Shadow World itself! The Red and Green Rangers clenched their fists in response to this event, while the rebel army shook in utter terror more so than they did earlier, using every bit of self-control and courage that they had in the souls to keep themselves from running back the way they came. Quadratrons, in their minds, they were ready to fight against, but not this devilry. Not _him!_

  
Stepping out from the tower of flame was a monster who stood larger and more terrifying than any other, dwarfing the people both behind and in front of him as the flame vanished upon his arrival. He was a fish beast with fins over his ears and hands, a body made entirely of rock with lava flowing through every crevice, claws like the sharpest of daggers protruding from the tips of his fingers, teeth built like the most dangerous of meat hooks, and bright orange eyes that, from his perspective, saw a universe engulfed in flames, his flames to be precise. All of the Eltarian rebels present had seen this monster’s visage on propaganda posters that were posted throughout Eltar’s cities, and had heard horror stories of the twisted things that he had done to those who dared to oppose him and his Alliance. But they had all hoped and prayed that he would not show up so soon, but here he was, standing before them, like a hungry animal ready to feast. This was no mere monster, but a demon with the crown of a king. Corrupt beyond measure, cruel beyond reason, and tyrannical beyond compare. He was the founder of the United Alliance of Evil and Grand Monarch of All that is Evil. The most powerful evil entity to have ever lived. The Dark Specter.  
With a deep, growl of a voice that oozed with sinister intent, the demon spoke to his enemies, the Eltarians frozen in fear and the Rangers refusing to move from where they stood, the hands of the Red and Green Rangers still firmly clenched;  
“I absolutely loathe to admit this, but your success against your masters has… surprised me. But it matters not. I give you this one and only chance from your Grand Monarch…”  
He then took a deep breath and bellowed out one word with a horrifically loud, monstrous roar that could only come from his mouth as he cried out;  
“RUN!”

  
A part of the Eltarian rebels wanted to do what he said and run as far away from all of this as possible, but another part of them knew that after all of the good that their heroes had done for them, to run now would disrespect them greatly. So out of their respect, they all gripped their spears and shields tightly as they turned to the Rangers to see what their answer would be. As terrified as they were, they were willing to wait for them to provide a response to the Dark Specter’s threat. The colored warriors were still, for a moment or two, but they then raised their right hands to point directly at him and responded in unison with calm voices filled with courage and masked with that robotic filter;  
“No… you run. For you stand against an army filled not with blind servants, but with people who have proven beyond doubt that goodness shall never vanish, no matter how hard you try to snuff it out.”  
Their words filled the Eltarians with courage that overpowered their fears, inspiring them to clench their weapons tight and ready themselves for the battle to come. For they knew in their souls that together, with their heroes fighting with them, they would survive beyond this day. The Dark Specter, however, was not moved, but before he could call upon his army to attack, the Rangers then raised their right hands up to the sky and opened them up while looking upon the clouds above them, as if they were silently calling for aid. Aid would indeed come, but not the kind that everyone else present would think to expect.

  
As if on cue, the clouds turned dark as lightning suddenly began to strike the ground around the battlefield with thunder rumbling between each strike, giving both armies a nasty shock as some of their number took a few steps away from the strikes. The Eltarians were both awestruck and overjoyed over what they were seeing, for it was as if the Power Rangers held control over the weather itself, a control that they had thought the heroes would use against their opponents. The Grand Monarch, however, was simply intrigued by this phenomenon, but a second one had occurred before he could react further. As the Eltarians cheered for the thunderstorm to destroy their enemies, the ground beneath their feet had begun to violently shake, prompting both armies and the Dark Specter to do what they had to in order to keep their balance. As for the Rangers, they had teleported away in six streams of colored energy just as the shaking had begun, flying through the sky for a moment before hurtling through the ground itself, a mere several feet from where the armies stood. A few moments of shaking later, rock and dirt erupted out from the ground three miles to the east of the two armies erupted, creating six large craters as six metallic machinations, built in the perfectly accurate image of ancient Eltarian warriors, rose up from the planet itself, each one baring the color of the Ranger that it is connected to: Red and Green in the middle, Yellow and Pink to the left, Black and Blue to the right. Complementing these colors were streaks of silver that went along their assorted limbs, with the Rangers’ yellow lightning bolt image proudly emblazoned upon their chests. Gigantic in size and stature, each metal giant bore the same armor that the ancient Eltarian warriors did long ago, all made of the same metal material as the giants who wore them; chest plates with shoulder-straps, curved shoulder guards with Eltar’s sigil, a fully-grown tree protected by a round magic shield held up by two Eltarian wizards, etched onto each one, sturdy belts to hold their armored leggings in place, armored boots that were made to kick opponents with supreme force, and battle gauntlets that almost reached their elbows. The giants all wielded the same weapon set; a mighty sword in the right hand and a rounded shield in the left, with that same lightning bolt etched upon the front of the shield. These giants were what the Rangers’ referred to as their Zords: The strongest weapons in their arsenal, meant only to be utilized when their enemies forced them to do so, and in this case, the very arrival of the Dark Specter himself had forced their hands.

  
The rebels looked upon the Zords in awe, some of their number shedding tears at the sight of their people’s history being honored so gloriously. The fear that they had felt when the Dark Specter had arrived was shrinking, with courage taking its place. The Quadratron army was not looking so formidable at this point in time, with most of their number taking a few steps back in fear of the six giant warriors that towered over them, even from the distance of three miles. Even their menacing leader had to look up in order to gaze upon the entirety of their visage, shocked at what he was seeing, but far from frightened. Before he could give a single order to his army, however, the eyes of the Zords began to glow, each with the color of the Ranger who they were connected to. They then fired colored lasers out from their eyes! The lasers descended upon ground between the two armies, moving passed the Dark Specter's body as they left deep black scorch marks in their wake. The lasers then vanished as quickly as they appeared, with the Zords raising their right hands upwards to point their metal index fingers to point at the sky itself, silently telling their adversaries to leave this planet or perish in battle.  
The rebels responded with courageous cheers and laughter as they defiantly told the Grand Monarch to run and take his army with him, their courage growing by the second. Some of their choice declarations were thus;  
“You better run before you get burned to ash!”  
“You are not making our people slaves again, Specter!”  
“If you don’t want your army to die, then leave this world at once!”  
“Our people will know freedom again!”  
“I hear magic is coming back, Specter! You better leave before our people turn your lava to ice!”  
The Dark Specter ignored their words, but recognized the Rangers’ warning, and responded with a devilish laugh as he declared with a loud voice that silenced everyone else;  
“If these fools think that their toys can save them, then they are truly insane!”  
He then turned his attention over to the his Quadratron army, which was visibly shaken by the laser attack, and bellowed out with authority;  
“Destroy these pathetic rebels! I will show their heroes the folly of defying the Dark Specter!”

  
He then ran away from the armies and towards the Zords as the Quadratrons charged at the rebels, who pointed their spears at their oncoming enemies and raised their shields to cover their bodies as best as they could. They bent knees to brace themselves for the coming clash, the rebels in front looking to take the brunt of the Quadratrons’s charge, with their comrades ready to hold them in place from behind. The goal was to do what the Rangers had done when they faced Terror-fin three years previously; let the enemy strike first, so that they can stop their attacks and strike back when possible. The trick, in this case, as to use their shields and combined physical strength to keep the opposing army from gaining any ground, allowing them to take their forces down little by little with their spears. Eltarian Generals of old had named this formation the Bulato, or Wall of Souls. A wall that the Quadratrons rammed themselves into without hesitation, their curved blades striking upon rebel shields all the force of a battering ram. Both sides pushed into each other with all of their might, with fighters on the front on each army hurling insults at each other in their native tongues. Ten seconds of constant pushing had passed, and the Quadratrons had started to lose some of their strength. The rebels were waiting for this moment, for they had responded by using their combined might to push their enemies back an inch or two, allowing the frontline troops the chance to take their spears and stab the Quadatrons in front of them directly through the gaps in their armor, which were present on their necks and upper arms where their black shirts offered no protection from the Eltarians’ attacks. The Quadatrons attacked despite this dilemma, getting hits and kills whenever they got the chance.  
As the battle of the two armies raged on, The Dark Specter continued to run up to the Zords, looking to wage a battle of his own. The Zords stood before their enemy, looking upon them with faces that showed no emotion. He then stopped to look up at the metallic giants and proudly declared with his recognizable growl;  
“Power Rangers! I am sure that you are somewhere inside your toys, which will make what I am about to do all the more amusing for me!”  
His claim was not wrong, for the Rangers were indeed piloting the Zords, though they never did explain to their allies how this was done. These heroes did have their secrets, and out of the respect for them and the good that they had done, the Eltarians did not pry too much about such things. The Dark Specter raised both of his arms to summon another pillar of flame of that completely engulfed the monarch, rising high enough to stand as tall as the six Zords themselves! The raging inferno vanished after three seconds had passed, revealing a sight that would have horrified the rebels if they weren’t too busy fighting to see it; the Dark Specter, standing as tall as his metal opponents, laughing manically as he threatened;  
“As the stars as my witness, I will burn you for your insolence, until you are nothing more than dust in the wind!”  
The demon then charged at them with his claws covered in fire, with the Zords raising the shields up to defend themselves, their swords raised to point at the beast, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  
The two battles that were being simultaneously waged were glorious and terrible all at once. While the two armies suffered great losses, it would be the Eltarian rebel’s skillful use of the Wall of Souls formation that would win them the fight, having caused so many casualties that the Quadratrons had no other alternative but to retreat by teleporting off planet. It is unknown to this day why they had decided to arrive via drop-pods in the first place, when they could have just teleported on to the surface instead. It has been guessed by historians that the Dark Specter wanted to maximize the amount of terror that his army could instill upon the rebels by having his army drop in without warning. If that was the reason, the upon retrospect, it did not help him or his forces as much as he might have expected it to. The fight between The Grand Monarch and the Rangers through their Zords, however, was far less one-sided. Much to the demon’s surprise, his opponents were proving to be more of match for his power and skill than he had ever imagined possible. Their shields could block his fire attacks, even the fire breath that he had used to reduce entire cities to cinders could not melt them down. When he could get past them, he found that his fire attacks could barely harm the Zords’ armor, so he had to make due with his claws, which had better luck at piercing them. Not that they had given him many chances to get past the shields, to be fair, for the Rangers made the monarch work hard for every blow that he could successfully dish out. The Rangers, on the other hand, were able to make quick and precise blows to the tyrant’s lava filled rocky hide with carefully placed sword swipes. The Dark Specter was no slouch when it came to combat, so he was able dodge and block most of the swipes, and his hide could take more punishment than that of any other monster in existence. Minutes turned into an hour. One hour into three, and yet these fighters, duking out to honor vastly differently sides, refused to stop for even a moments reprieve. But as the fight dragged on to its fourth hour, the numbers game was beginning take its toll on the demon, and his energy was finally beginning to run out, with no signs of slowing being shown by the Zords. As the rebel army mopped up the stragglers who could not teleport in time to escape, they began to notice the battle of titans that was raging three miles away from them.  
Awestruck at what they were seeing, the rebels began to cheer the Rangers on, encouraging them to take down the hated monarch once and for all. The Dark Specter was getting tired at this point, causing him to make careless mistakes that earned him more and more damage dealt by his enemies. His rocky hide refused to buckle against their attacks, however, as the beast continued to fight with all of his terrible might, in spite of his tiredness. As the fifth hour arrived however, pieces of his body had begun to fall off of him as he finally stopped fighting, standing completely still, heaving out of a lack of energy. The rebels noticed this and cheered in joy, for they were seeing with their own eyes that the Grand Monarch of All of that is Evil could be wounded. Thus, he could be killed!

  
The Rangers clearly noticed this as well, for they wasted no time as they had their Zords surround their opponent and raised their swords up high with both hands, pointing them to sky above their heads while the Dark Specter looked at what was happening, too tired to raise his hands in defense at this point. He then belted out a horribly loud and defiant roar that all present could hear as lightning bolts struck each of the blades, causing electricity to coarse through them as the Zords swung their swords with six mighty simultaneous downward swipes, sending six waves of energy from each blade careening towards the beast, all of them finding their mark! The resulting damage caused electrical currents to flow through his rocky body, the lava oozing out from the crevices as he cried out in pain, fell on to his right side, and exploded spectacularly upon impact with the ground below. The Rangers suspected that this would happen, like Terror-fin before him, so they made sure to have their Zords quickly back away from their opponent, turning their backs against him as he exploded. The Dark Specter, the enemy of all that is good, was defeated.

  
After the explosion, the crowd of rebels erupted into a passionate, joy-filled frenzy, crying out in joy and celebration over the defeat of the monsters who their masters made them believe to be unstoppable. The Rangers teleported out from their Zords and landed in front of the crowd, with the metal giants disappearing with six flashes of light. They all then walked together to where the monarch had fallen, while being careful to avoid the steaming hot giant hunks of rock and pools of lava that flowed every which way, the goal being to make sure that there was nothing left of the beast that could be salvaged by evil hands. They then stopped upon a pile of smaller rocks positioned on the center of where he fell. One of the rebels noted that this would make for a fine spot to mark his grave. At the precise moment that the rebel had finished speaking, the pile of rocks began to shake and shift around for a moment, and then a hand with a fin over it and two broken claws on the index and ring fingers came bursting out from the pile, giving everyone there a nasty shock. The rebels all backed away in horror, even the Power Rangers took a step back in response, for they had never expected him to survive the devasting combined assault that they had delivered unto him! The Dark Specter rose from the rocks, badly wounded, barely holding to life through willpower alone it seemed, but still very much alive.

  
His rage was distinctively etched upon his person, fire burned out from his eyes, smoke flowed out from his mouth with each heavy, audible, growl of a breath that he took, the lava that flowed through every crack in his body spewed out from it with each exhale, only to be replaced by a supply of the liquid that was as endless as his fury. His chest and arms were clearly missing more than a few rocks, the gaping wounds revealing molten lava that flowed in place of skin, which hid his internal body parts. He looked upon the warriors who bested him, and no one else, with a glare that could melt lesser people’s wills into molten slag. The Rangers were not lesser people, however, for they all looked at him without so much as quivering in fear. They then spoke to him with calm, unified, and serious masked voices. What they said to him was one word, the same suggestion that the Grand Monarch had given to them and their allies before the fights began;  
“Run.”  
A simple request, to be sure, but one that spoke volumes of their character. For this was an act of mercy on their part, a second chance for their enemy to run away from Eltar, never to return. The first being when they had their Zords fire their lasers near, but not directly upon, him or his army. They would explain later on that they did this to show to their enemies and allies that the concept of mercy, an idea that the U.A.E. hated and tried to stamp out, is not so easily killed. Silence filled the would-be grave for five seconds, only to be replaced by the Dark Specter’s soft, madness-induced laughter that sent chills down the spines of every Eltarian within earshot. He could not belt out said laughter without hurting himself at this point, but he did not care for such an annoyance, for he had one last thing to say to his enemies, and in his twisted mind, he was going to say it properly. After the laughter ended, he gave to all who could listen a dreadful warning, his speech as slow as it was menacing;  
“Mark my words… and mark them well… I will make you regret letting me live, for I will find a way to destroy you, your allies, and everything that you stand for… Know that when the dust settles… on the war that is soon to come… all will bow… to their…”  
He then took a deep breath and belted out his final words with a loud, boastful roar, risking further pain to himself just to emphasize his point;  
“GRAND MONARCH OF ALL THAT IS EVIL!”  
A third pillar of flame erupted around him right after he finished his vile claim, consuming him utterly for two seconds before disappearing, with the Dark Specter vanishing along with it.

  
At this point, the Power Rangers and the Eltarian Rebels were unfazed by this warning. While the Dark Specter was allowed to live, a choice that not every Eltarian agrees with to this day, his defeat and the loss of his army would spell the end of his Alliance’s hold on the planet, for it was only matter of time before Sulan was liberated. With the last city rescued from the Grand Monarch’s grip, the last remaining stragglers dealt with, Eltar was finally free, thanks to the Power Rangers and the Eltarians who found the courage to fight at their side. As the celebrations ran their course, news of Eltar’s successful rebellion spread through the universe. The Alliance tried to halt to spread of information, only to fail, for the truth could not be silenced or held back; It was possible fight back against the Alliance, and trillions upon trillions of people began to realize that fact. Over time, more and more planets rebelled against their evil overlords, inspired not only by what would soon be named the Eltarian Uprising, but also by the team of heroes who made such an event possible. Eventually, entire galaxies would take up arms against the Alliance, sparking the war that the Dark Specter had predicted. It did not take long for those who lived and fought for many of those worlds to discover something truly exciting; their worlds had Power Rangers of their own! Much to the Dark Specter’s dismay, and fury, the team that soundly defeated him would not be last set of Rangers that he would have to contend with. For while he did recover from his loss, and would go on become to become more powerful, and larger, than ever before, one fact consistently rang true. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many Rangers he killed, he would never be rid of the threat that only the Power Rangers could pose upon him and all that he had wrought. As for the Rangers of Eltar, they continued to hold vigil over that world, helping to repel one invasion attempt after another, while continuing to bring hope to Eltarians the world over, who would be eternally grateful to them for their service. They would go on to make sure that their work would be carried out far beyond their deaths.

  
Through the heroic actions of the first team, and of the countless Rangers who would come after them, the name Power Ranger would come to be respected by those who admired them and feared by those who hated them. Their deeds would also inspire numerous others to take on the charge of being heroes, for the betterment of a universe embroiled in war. The losses would be uncountable on both sides and the destruction beyond reckoning. But the good folks of the universe would not let this stop them from facing the evils of the Alliance, for they knew in their souls that, whether they would be with them in person or fighting battles far away, the Power Rangers would always fight for all that is good.

  
The Legacy of Power had begun.

  
Forever may it last.

**Author's Note:**

> As the tale concludes, I am curious; what did you think of this story? What was good about it? What was bad about it? Constructive criticism is a creator's best friend, so have it!


End file.
